


Something stupid

by youllalwaysfitinwithme



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 03:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13650141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youllalwaysfitinwithme/pseuds/youllalwaysfitinwithme
Summary: When Clarke and Bellamy find themselves in an uncomfortable situation, they find out they have very different methods of dealing with it."It was time to tackle the issue before it got out of hand. It was time to face what happened, or else he would never hear of Clarke Griffin again, and he just couldn't allow that."





	Something stupid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wanheda_two_heda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanheda_two_heda/gifts).



> Hello there!!  
> This story is a gift for wanheda_two_heda as part of the Bellarke Valentines 2018.  
> I was so excited when I read your preferences that I thought I would mix some of them and see what came out. I love college AUs, and I had been wanting to write bellarke as flatmates for some time, so those two were easy to put together. I don't want to spoil much here, so I'll leave you to find out the rest ;)  
> I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it too.  
> Happy Valentine!!!  
> 

What was it that drove people to do stupid things? Bellamy pondered the question for the thousandth time that week as he lay in bed, listening to the utter silence in the flat. So far, he had come up with reasons ranging from "wanting something", to "needing something", to "not being aware that said something was a stupid thing to do". He had also found the circumstances in which the stupid thing happened to be quite relevant and influential, at least, in his own experience. Circumstance had made him do a stupid thing, and with that factor well established within his mental scheme on that night, Bellamy only needed to figure out one more thing: the why. Because whatever the circumstances, he wouldn't have done what he did with just anybody, which brought him back to his original question: what was it that drove people to do stupid things?

It had been a week since the stupid thing happened and, coincidentally, since the last time he'd seen or heard of Clarke. Perhaps those two events were completely unrelated and Bellamy had been needlessly thinking too much about it. Or perhaps -and this one was the option which didn't feel like a blatant lie to himself- the first thing had triggered the second, and Clarke was avoiding him. But that was ridiculous, right? It had only been a week. Maybe she was just busy with everything else. Perhaps she hadn't even noticed the lack of communication. It wasn't so rare, it happened. (Even in the best families). 

Bellamy could've brushed it off and think nothing of it, if not for the fact that they were best friends. If not for the fact that they lived together. No, he couldn't just ignore it, and one week had been enough. Bellamy was done hiding from the inevitable conclusion he'd been trying to unsee all week: that Clarke was actually avoiding him.

He felt hurt, frustrated. He wished she'd made things easier by just acting natural and overlooking the gigantic elephant in the room. That's what he would've done, if only he'd had the chance. But he hadn't seen Clarke in a whole week, and it seemed as if the time for overlooking had passed. She had overthought everything -not like him, who wasn't doing exactly  _that_ -, and on top of it, decided on the lousy tactic of cutting off all contact between them. Bellamy was done with that. It was time to tackle the issue before it got out of hand. It was time to face what happened, or else he would never hear of Clarke Griffin again, and he just couldn't allow that.

With a grunt, Bellamy got out of bed and put on a mostly clean t-shirt. With trainers on his feet, he went out the door and made his way down the corridor and the stairs, and into the street. He started running as he thought about ways of approaching the subject, and why not, buying a little more time. Just because they needed to talk about it, didn't mean he  _wanted_ to talk about it.

 

 

_It had started casual, all their friends getting together on a friday to grab a few drinks. It was basically routine after three years. Same people, same bar, same shitty music. They got together, they got wasted, they joked around, and then it was time to go. But that night, they didn't._

_"Night's young you old people!" Clarke said, and waved them goodbye as she danced her way over to the bar. Bellamy took in the general weariness in his group of friends and put a hand to Monty's shoulder. "You go ahead, I'll get her."_

_And they left. And he made his way to the bar where Clarke was already gulping another shot._

_"_ _If you don't stop now, I'll have to carry your drunk ass back to the flat, and I'd rather not having to do that."_

_She just looked at him pensive, and her thinking apparently led her to the conclusion he too should have one more drink._

_"Come on Blake, back me up me in this one. We're a team, aren't we?" she said as she offered him a shot._

_"I'm gonna die so young, and it will probably be on you" he complained as he took it from her and drank it straight._

_And then another, and another after that one._

_They weren't sure about how many they'd drunk, but they danced, mostly fooling around, until they weren't. Suddenly, her hands were on his chest and shoulders, and her fingers digged into his back. And it felt good. It just felt natural to reciprocrate and hold her back, one hand in hers, the other pressing her back to get her closer. He hadn't realized how close they'd come. They swayed to the rhythm, their complete focus on the feel of the other's warm touch._ _And then she kissed him._

_And in all honesty, he kissed her back._

 

 

It had been a week since that night, and since the last time she'd been able to look Bellamy in the face, which was odd, considering her best friend had a hell of a nice face to look at. But maybe that'd been the problem in the first place. 

She hadn't seen it at first, when they met during first year; but in time, she picked on the amount people that just stared whenever he played a game, or how the room grew a little more silent whenever it was Bellamy's turn to present a project. She thought it was ridiculous, and teased him about it all the time. Sure, he was good looking, but she had never seen what the fuss was all about.

But that night, she had seen it. Up close.

Maybe that had been another problem. They had been too close.

But being close had never been a problem before. They were no strangers to closeness after a few years of invading each other's personal space, hugging when the other needed comfort, or sleeping together when they were too drunk to reach their own bed (which was literally steps away). They had been all sorts of close for a long time, and as much as Clarke tried to see what happened as just another -new, strange- sort, she just couldn't overlook it. 

One didn't simply get themselves in that situation with their friend and went on with their life. She knew she couldn't.

Clarke glanced around the cafe and leaned on the table as her coffee got colder. She knew she couldn't just avoid him until they magically went back in time and changed what happened. It had already been a week, and that was most likely never going to happen anyway, so she needed to get her shit together and face him. But in order to do that, she needed to understand first. She needed to figure out the  _how_ and  _why_ in case he dared to ask. She needed to foresee all the different scenarios and their possible outcomes. She needed a plan on how not to screw their friendship.

Because what if he asked about feelings? What if it changed their relationship from now on? Bellamy was her best friend, she wasn't willing to lose him to a stupid situation, or at all. So, as she rummaged for the sketchbook in her bag, Clarke asked herself the same questions that had been bothering her all week: how did she feel about Bellamy Blake after  _that_? And how would  _he_ feel?

 

 

_The ride home had been silent, except for the voices on the radio and the occasional participation of the driver. Clarke and Bellamy spent what seemed like the shortest journey home ever looking out of the windows, watching the city pass by. They didn't look at each other. They didn't speak. But still, their hands were clasped together between them, in a common ground sort of way that actually kept their feeling of embarrassment at bay._

 

 

Bellamy couldn't keep running. He had been for the last hour, and his lungs were urging him to give them a break. But he couldn't quite stop either. For the sake of not throwing up, though, he slowed down until he was just walking, and then he started the walk back to their flat. He had been thinking about it -that night-, and he hadn't found yet a single way to talk to Clarke that didn't involve awkwardness and uncomfortable glances. The more he thought about it, the more he dreaded the conversation. Maybe a little alcohol would build the confidence he needed to take the subject lightly. But wasn't alcohol what got him in this mess in the first place? They'd drank too much, they'd been too close. Bellamy took a deep breath before his thoughts wandered too near to the part where they kissed in places they never had, too much.

But it had felt so good. And that was the problem. It got him confused.

Clarke was... Clarke. The smartypants, fun friend he could rely on; the person who knew him best. He would be lying if he said he had never, even for one second, thought about her that way, sexually. He had, when they had first met. It was just a stupid crush though, because he had eyes. But she had been seeing someone, and by the time she wasn't, she was already  _his_ Clarke.

But after that night, he saw her in a completely different light. Like a door had opened right before his eyes, one he'd never been able to see but somehow had been there all along. However, it was a possibility he didn't dare give much thought before he knew where she stood. Because no matter his feelings -whatever those were-, he wouldn't risk their friendship. Not hers. Not for his stupid crush on her coming back three years later to bite him in the ass.

 

 

Bellamy fought to keep his eyes open as the clock struck 1 a.m. She hadn't showed up in the whole day, and at this point, he was just tired of the situation, of waiting, of thinking. He would tell her how childish she was being, he would go and spit everything he needed to say, and end the mess they got themselves in. He heard the key turning at the door and his head inmediately followed the sound. When she opened, there was surprise and mouths hanging half open, trying to utter something. He had missed that face, and as he looked at her, Bellamy's will to fight her simply vanished. He couldn't bring himself to attack her and maybe complicate things even more. 

But they still needed to talk. 

"Come here, Clarke" he said. Clarke closed the door and patiently made her way to the couch, jacket still on, as if she planned on not staying for long. "You've been hiding."

Bellamy knew that throwing accusations at her wasn't the best strategy, but it was a start and it wasn't a lie. 

 

 

_Once they got home, they didn't let go of each other's hand until their steps led them to the bed. From there, it was all brand new territory between them again, but they didn't seem afraid of it. There was anticipation in their eyes, as if that was the natural continuation to them abruptly leaving that bar. As if they had been waiting for that to happen since they kissed, but had been too afraid to push it. As if they didn't feel like they shouldn't be doing that._

_Somehow, Clarke had already lost her dress once they settled on the bed. The cold sheets created a contrast against the warmth of their bodies, lost only for a second in which Bellamy took off his clothes too. He held onto her back as her legs wrapped around him. She felt his hands on her hair, grasping as she kissed him urgently, leaving it just to feel her up when her mouth started leaving a trail of kisses all over his neck. Her fingers found their way down his chest to his crotch, and then her warmth was all Bellamy could feel all around. It wasn't awkward nor romantic, just pure lust. Fierce tongues searching each other, lips teasing and teeth clashing. Their touch raw and wild, moans and grunts fuelling a lust they'd never even known existed. Pleasure blinding them just enough to draw ushered words from their lips._

 

 

This was it.

The dreaded moment was happening and it was even worse than she'd envisioned. She wasn't prepared. She needed to end it fast, before she said something she would regret.

"Maybe" she said. That was good.  _Maybe_ was safe. 

"Maybe?" or maybe it wasn't. Bellamy looked at her intently, as if he was waiting for her to elaborate, as if she was supposed to know the words he wanted to hear. As if she had a reasonable explanation for her behaviour, or what they'd done. Their eyes met, and she panicked. 

"Okay, yes" she felt herself blush at the high volume of her voice, but she didn't stop. "I mean... I didn't know what to do. We fucked, Bellamy! And now it's awkward, and we don't know what to say, or at least I don't know what to say, and in all honesty, I'm feeling a little cornered right now. You caught me off-guard,  _you_ should be doing the talking."

Bellamy looked nervous, now that the cards were on the table. He wet his lips and looked around. He sighed. "Clarke... I don't care what happened" he said, and Clarke found herself quite surprised at his calm when she had practically yelled the situation at him. Although he couldn't hide his anxious gestures -a hand running through his hair, his breath a little too fast, the way he wouldn't look at her-, he was good at controlling his voice. She also found herself quite hurt by his words.

"You don't care?"

"I mean... That's not what I meant. Of course I care that what happened  _happened_ , but what's really bothering me is us. I just need to know... are we good?"

Clarke frowned and let go of the lip she'd been biting on. "What do you mean?"

"Hard feelings?" Bellamy asked, squaring his jaw, which made it seem as if he was preparing to receive a blow. 

"Do you think I'm angry with you? Because of that night?" 

"You've been avoiding me."

"But not because I'm angry... I was jus..." she took a deep breath and looked at him intently. "We are good, Bellamy" she said truthfully. That had been her biggest concern, damaging their friendship, but he seemed commited to discarding that from his list of worries as well. They were on the same page, and Clarke felt immensely relieved. 

"Well, that's good" he nodded, and found his way to her eyes. He smiled at her, and Clarke found comfort in his words, in the relief he'd shown, and in the way he looked at her. It was tender. 

"I haven't put up with three years of your shit just so you could ran away on me at the first shot you got" she joked, and just like that, things seemed headed in the right direction. They were going to be good. How could they have ever doubted that?

"You know, it was actually you running away all this week" he said, but it didn't sound like an accusation, just a statement, perhaps even a tease, and she couldn't argue against it. She didn't really want to. And he kept talking anyway, "I made up my mind to just act normal, like nothing had happened... should've known you well enough to know it was the damn wrong tactic."

"Yes, you should've" she smiled, "and it was a shitty tactic anyway. It would've blown on our faces sooner or later."

"Yeah... the way  _yours_  has."

It had only been a week, but oh, had she missed his teasing and picking little fights. "Hey,  _you_ ruined my strategy. I was putting together a whole monologue on how vital our friendship was to the life on campus, and how if ruined it would just shatter the rest of our friends, and the many ways in which I planned on killing you if you ever messed up with it. It was mind blowing, life changing."

Bellamy rolled his eyes, as he did everytime he saw her bluffs. "I can't wait to hear the whole thing."

"It's... not finished."

 

 

Yes, they were good. Bellamy felt it was safe for them to talk about it. They had just agreed on not letting it affect their friendship anyway, and he needed to know. He didn't want to wonder the what ifs, didn't want to regret things unsaid... So he figured he wouldn't hold back anymore. However she felt, he wanted to know.

"Do you regret it?" he blurted suddenly. He noticed the way in which Clarke flinched at the question, and thought that maybe she'd been dreading it just as much as him. But he wanted to know, needed to know, whether there was an uncharted territory that they could explore, or if they would remain safely tucked behind the walls of their known friendship.

Clarke seemed deep in thought, and the sinking feeling in Bellamy's gut insinuated that maybe, just maybe, it hadn't been such a great idea to utter that very specific question. He was ready for whatever answer, but that didn't necessarily mean he wasn't scared of what that answer would be. Clarke sighed.

"I have the feeling that whatever I say, it will mess something up."

"It won't, Clarke" he assured her, "we can't just ignore it. And I don't want us to forget about this whole situation without first saying what we think about it. Besides, we're good, we just said it." He meant it. Clarke still didn't look convinced, but he meant what he said: they would make it; things would still be normal after this if her answer was that she regretted it. It would be a blow, but it was a blow he could take. He would never give up on their friendship, he'd never give up on her. Even if her answer didn't match his. And if it did...

If it did, then things might get interesting.

Clarke bit her lip nervously. Her expression showed determination when he assumed she'd made up her mind. There was a tiny bit of blush on her cheeks too. He had missed her so much. 

"Well, just for the sake of humouring you" she started, he chuckled. "No. I cannot say that I regret it."

Bellamy grinned, a relieved sigh escaped his mouth. "That's good," he nodded, "it would've turned real awkward real fast if we didn't agree on that one."

She returned the smile and a spark of mischief shimmered in her eyes. "So... what do we do with that information?"

"We'll figure it out" Bellamy said, shrugging his shoulders, relaxed at last. 

The room had fallen silent in the time he took to process their talk, his eyes on the ceiling, and when he looked at Clarke again, she seemed ready for battle. The last thing he was expecting from the night was to taste her lips once more, but suddenly, Clarke was kissing him, slowly this time, as if trying it out. His hand unconciously brushed her hair off her face, until it rested on the side of her head, gently pressing to deepen the kiss.

He stared at her dumbfounded when she broke it off. 

"Well?" Clarke said, pursing her lips into a smile. And just like that, Bellamy found the answer to his question: that perhaps, what drove people to do stupid things, was the possibility of getting somewhere new.

Bellamy nodded softly as he brought her face closer again. "Agree" he said as he kissed her. Only this time, it didn't feel like something stupid.

 

 


End file.
